


can you feel the fever

by delsicle



Series: dom on tour [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Bottom Louis, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Harry Styles: Live On Tour, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Service Submission, Spanking, Sub Louis, Teasing, Top Harry, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delsicle/pseuds/delsicle
Summary: Tour has Harry exhausted. Luckily exactly what he needs is waiting for him in his Sacramento dressing room





	can you feel the fever

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is with me and random short smut fics lately but personally I'm having a lot of fun lol. 
> 
> Today I saw it's been a year since Harry had his show in Sacramento, and I remembered a smut drabble I had started and then put aside based on that show. I figured today was an appropriate time to brush it off, and finish it up. So, now I have a second part of my very informal series: Dom On Tour, in which Harry and Louis go backstage during Harry's tour to get high, be sad, and fuck hard. All you need in life!
> 
> This fic is pretty straight forward so here are your warnings: this is full filth, it's d/s in an established relationship so all negotiation takes place off screen, there is degradation and punishment and all kinds of nasty things (read the tags). There is also recreational drinking and drug use (weed and brief mention of cocaine). Also...
> 
> ****THIS IS INTENDED FOR 18+ AUDIENCES****
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy x 
> 
> Bonus: cursed photo that inspired this mess https://www.instagram.com/p/BlERCTvj_Xx/

Harry was exhausted. 

Tour was almost over, his throat burned as if he swallowed glass while nursing a cold, and he had forgotten how fucking hot it was in California. He wanted to walk right out of the stadium, check into a hotel with cool, untouched sheets, crack up a beer or three, and walk around naked for a little while. He wanted to rest and be alone but instead he had three more songs to do. 

He put on a good show, in spite of it all, because that was what he knew how to do. He could perform with his eyes closed. Which is kind of what he wanted to do right now. But he pushed through his last few songs, made some jokes, did the encores everyone was expecting. He thanked Sacramento for coming, his throat still screaming at him, and then quickly ducked off the stage, the screams that lingered behind him sending a headache shooting into his skull. 

When he got off stage, his neck was slick with sweat and it felt like he was developing a rash under his arms from how badly the sleeves of the jumpsuit were digging at him. A few assistants took his wireless mics, and Helene cornered him to take an obligatory Instagram picture, but all he had the energy for was to slump against the wall behind him. 

After the photo was done, an assistant asked him if he needed anything, and he thought through all the good choices he could make right now – requesting some water, some green tea, a self-help book from Barnes & Noble, maybe. 

“I want vodka,” he said instead, “Very cold vodka.” 

Someone went off to get it for him, and five minutes later, he was trudging back to his dressing room with a frosty blue bottle in his hand, limping in his high heeled boots. To add insult to injury, there was a fat blister on his right heel and no one had thought to bring any Band-Aids. 

He pushed open the dressing room door, fully preparing to set all his shit down and enjoy the next few hours getting a little drunk in his pajamas before he had to get on a flight to LA. 

Instead, he found his husband sprawled on the dressing room couch, dressed in Harry’s jumper and a pair of women’s underwear, smoking a joint. 

“Hey, big boy,” Louis said, exhaling and blinking prettily at him, “Nice show.”

Harry just stared at him, Louis’s bright eyes and big smile gleaming through the haze, and then promptly locked the door behind him. He strode forward, his jaw clenched, his fists at his sides. 

“What,” Harry said, slamming his vodka bottle down on the coffee table, “in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” Louis smiled and exhaled again, “Do you want some pizza? I ordered some.”

“You ordered pizza to a fucking arena – you know what, never mind,” Harry shook his head, “Louis, how long have you been here?”

“In this venue? Since like 9. In this room? Since Carolina,” he shrugged, “I got bored.”

He took another drag of his joint, and Harry just stared at him; at how the jumper had ridden up over his soft belly, how the high cut of his thong curved over his thick thighs. His body was tan and soft and delicious and, until now, in an unlocked room. 

“You think that’s fucking cute?” Harry growled, “You think it’s okay to let anyone walk in here and see you like this? That’s fucking mine.”

“What’s yours?” Louis blinked. “Last I checked it’s also my name on the account that helps to pay for this room. Also, it’s my body. And my ass.”

“And whose fucking name is inked on your right ass cheek, Louis, Jesus Christ,” Harry huffed. He took another step forward and shook his head, “Get off my couch.”

“Why?”

“Because only good boys get the couch.”

Louis batted his eyelashes once. 

“I’m a good boy.”

“You’re a brat. You’re a spoiled fucking brat who can’t answer his goddamn calls,” Harry said, approaching the couch, “Now help me get these fucking shoes off.”

“Alright, alright, Christ. No need to get snappy with me,” Louis sighed. He set the joint back on the table and exhaled one more time, and then slid off the couch, knocking off one of the throw cushions as he did so. 

“Louis, those are a $1,000 each.”

“Not my fault you don’t know how to spend our money properly.”

Louis got on the ground and settled on his hands and knees, beautifully, with his bum curved, his back straight, his head down. Harry nearly shuddered at the sight; even after some time apart Louis was still practiced and careful in the way he moved.

Harry sat down on the couch, letting out a long sigh. Then he lifted up one foot, settled it against Louis’s back and began to unzip his boot.

The leather fell away easily, clattering next to Louis’s side, and then Harry lifted the other foot up and did the same. He pulled off his socks and tossed them away, and then finally crossed his feet over each other on top of Louis’s back, leaned back and groaned. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, so he went ahead and tucked a hand between his legs, squeezing himself hard over the sparkling fabric. The press of the stiff fabric against his bare cock made him groan, and he shifted his hips. He was hard, and God, did he need to get off with something that wasn’t silicone or his own hand. 

He lifted himself up a bit, just enough to reach behind him and struggle on the zipper on his jumpsuit. He had never wanted to take something off so badly in his life, and he had forgotten that it had taken two people to help him get into this thing in the first place. 

The only thing that brought him out of his struggle was Louis’s voice underneath him.

“If you wanted a fuck so badly you shouldn’t have locked up your prick so tightly.”

Harry opened his eyes and squinted down at his husband, who was staring up at him with a lazy, confident smile. Harry frowned, his eyes sharpening to a glare.

“Did I tell you you could talk?” Harry snapped, “Jesus, Louis, you’re killing me. You don’t answer my calls for a week – “

“I was working.”

“I saw your private Instagram story. You were swimming naked in the fucking pool,” Harry huffed, “Christ, Louis, what if I needed you?”

“You didn’t,” Louis said, “Harry, you’re tired. And I know when you get tired, you snap.”

“I snap,” Harry repeated, and Louis rolled his eyes. 

“You dom snap,” Louis explained, “You think I didn’t want to answer your 2 AM sexts? Please. I was trying to help you. If I came running at your every whim you couldn’t get the release you need.”

Louis batted his eyes again, and then rolled his shoulders so he could tuck his chin down to look at Harry from beneath his lashes. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Harry just blinked at him, and he felt his stomach lurch as he looked at Louis. 

God, had he been so tightly wound that Louis could tell from a mile away? He was worn out, counting shows down on his fingers, barely being able to enjoy the home stretch. But he thought he’d done a fine job of covering all that up. Fucking Twitter couldn’t even tell how tired he was and they knew everything. 

But Louis had seen right through all of that. 

Of course he had. 

And honestly, thank God.

“I love you,” Harry got out, and Louis chuckled.

“I love you too. But your giant feet are killing my back.”

“Alright. Fine,” Harry huffed, and quickly dropped his feet off Louis’s back. He spread his arms out over the back of the couch and took a breath, centering himself for a moment before he lifted his chin, nodding to the mini fridge in the corner of the room, “You can’t be a pretty, quiet footrest? Then pour me a glass of vodka and roll me a joint. See if you can be a better house maid.” 

Louis just smiled, and then climbed to his feet, bouncing once on his toes as he gazed at Harry. 

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“I didn’t say you could get on your feet,” Harry said, the words coming to him naturally. 

Louis smiled at him, his eyes glinting, and he smoothly settled on his hands and knees, like it had been exactly what he expected. 

Harry went back to struggling with his jumpsuit, and he watched as Louis crawled around the room. He retrieved a glass from the mini bar and then a plastic bottle of cranberry juice from the mini fridge. He slid forward on his knees and one hand as he carried it the glass and then juice back to the coffee table. He settled back on his bum when he was finished, pouring the vodka and juice in the glass and swirling it a bit to get it to mix. 

“I didn’t ask for a vod cran,” Harry said, and Louis rolled his eyes. 

“You may like when I call you Daddy but I still know you can’t pass up a vodka cranberry,” he said, “You want it now or with your weed?” 

Harry tugged on his zipper again and cursed, making Louis chuckle. 

“I’ll get your weed.”

He took out Harry’s personal stash of rolling papers and weed from the coffee table’s drawer – Harry really was too predictable about where he kept it – and rolled a spliff up for him with careful, practiced fingers. Once it was prepared, Louis grabbed Harry’s hot pink lighter from the drawer and flicked it a few times, the flame flashing white and blue. 

“What’s your pleasure, Daddy?” 

“Help me take this fucking costume off first,” Harry said. His arms were sore from trying to reach behind his back to take it off. 

Louis nodded and then crawled over to him, pulling himself up onto the couch. Harry didn’t complain this time, he just turned around so Louis could get full access to his back. The other man tugged on the zipper, gently running his fingers down Harry’s back as he uncovered more and more skin. When he got to his waist, Harry pulled off the top part entirely, rubbing his arms hard as the pink, irritated skin was finally exposed to air. 

“You want to stand up to get the legs off?”

“Not yet,” Harry said, “Get my drink.”

Louis nodded and reached across the table, grabbing the cocktail glass. He tried to hand it off to Harry, but he just pushed Louis’s hand away and gave him a look. 

“Serve it to me.”

Louis swallowed, his throat bobbing, and he inched closer, holding out the drink. He lifted the glass to Harry’s lips, and Harry kept his eyes on Louis as the other man tilted the glass so Harry could open his mouth and drink. 

Louis kept his eyes down, as he usually did when they played. Always polite, always subservient, never looking or touching without permission. But Harry could look at him all he wanted. The jumper was falling off Louis’s shoulders, and his face looked freshly shaved. If Harry closed his eyes and sniffed he could detect his own cologne on Louis’s skin, under the smell of marijuana. 

Harry waved his hand when he was done drinking, and Louis carefully tilted the glass back down and put it back on the table. Harry smacked Louis’s thigh when he put it on the bare wood. 

“Put that a coaster, you fucking whore.” 

Louis bit his lip, and Harry could tell he wanted to laugh, but instead he just grabbed one of the marbled coasters from the table and then settled the glass on top of it. 

“Good boy,” Harry said, “I’d like to smoke now.”

Louis nodded and then grabbed the lighter and the spliff. With the same careful movement, he put the joint into Harry’s half-open mouth, and then once the other man had closed his lips around it, Louis flicked the lighter and put the flame onto the tip. 

Harry smoked with his eyes closed, letting the smell and feeling run through him. He could feel Louis’s presence next to him but the other man was still, barely moving his hips to adjust his stance. Harry couldn’t even feel Louis’s gaze; he was keeping his eyes down, just like Harry had taught him. 

Louis was right. Harry did want to dom when he snapped. It just took a lot for him to get there. It took him breaking a dozen guitar strings in rehearsals, it took countless morning burning his mouth on hot coffee, it took two dozen people a day fussing over him and not taking the hint to leave him alone for two seconds. It took weeks of Louis not returning his calls and sexts and Skype requests for no good reason. 

Well, clearly he had had a good reason, because Harry had forgotten just had deliciously intoxicating it was to control another person so thoroughly. 

Harry just hated to give him credit for it, because his husband might have been a genius, but he was also a little shit. 

Harry opened his eyes eventually, and when he did, Louis was still kneeling next to him on the couch, eyes down, hands folded. Harry smiled, rested his joint in the ashtray, and then leaned forward, kissing the side of Louis’s neck. It made the other man jump. 

“Open your eyes, darling,” Harry said. Louis did, his big baby blues blinking through the haze of smoke, but kept his head down. Harry tucked his fingers under Louis’s smooth chin, lifting his head up. He smiled when Louis’s eyes met him own, and a little smile twitched on Louis’s mouth. 

“Thank you, love,” Harry said, “I feel better now.”

Louis’s smile fully formed when, his mouth and eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

Sweet Jesus, he was intoxicating. 

“You’re welcome, Daddy,” Louis said, “You need anything else? More vodka? Some coke?” 

“I want you to help me take the bottom half of this thing off so I can fuck you.” 

Louis’s lit up at that, and he held up his hands, already prepared to help. Harry to stand up and twist and lift his legs to allow Louis to get all the fabric off, but the other man was dutiful as he worked, and kissed Harry’s legs as he freed them. After a solid ten minutes of struggle, Harry kicked the jumpsuit off his feet and collapsed onto the couch, spreading his legs wide and tossing his head back for a moment as he breathed. He had sweat places he didn’t want it to be and his cock was half-hard, so things could be better but they could also be far worse. 

After a moment he lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at Louis. 

“Get on my lap,” he said. 

Louis perked up again, and brought himself forward, swinging his legs on either side of Harry’s lap and lifting his bum above Harry’s crotch. Harry gave him a firm look and pinched one of Louis’s nipples. 

“Lay down,” Harry ordered, which made Louis frown. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me.”

“I plan to. Later,” Harry said, and then pinched Louis’s other nipple, “Now I said get on my lap, boy.”

Louis quickly rearranged himself until he was no longer kneeling but instead laying on his belly across Harry’s legs, his face shoved into one the Gucci throw cushions. Harry leaned across Louis’s body, retrieved his joint, and lit it up again. 

When he leaned back, he tucked the joint back into his mouth and lifted his hand. He paused for a minute, surveying Louis’s body. He allowed his gaze to freely browse the way the large jumper billowed off Louis’s small frame, the way his round ass looked framed against the dark purple thong, how his hair was wild and uncombed in the back. The black ink scrawled on his bum that spelled Harry’s name. He was lovely, and Harry almost felt bad for what he was about to do. 

Almost. 

“You’re getting fifteen,” he announced, “Which is generous, considering you not only didn’t answer my calls, but you also sat here in your panties in an unlocked room for an hour.” 

Louis nodded, and when he saw that, Harry lifted his hand up. He paused for a moment, readying himself, and then he brought his palm down with a firm crack. It made Louis’s body start, his legs flicking up out of instinct. Harry smoothed his hand down Louis’s lovely, tanned legs, flattening them again, and enjoyed the feeling of touching silky skin as he did so. 

“My baby waxed,” Harry said, “I can tell.” 

Louis made an indistinct noise, and Harry ran his hand back up Louis’s legs. He stopped at his bum, and slipped a finger under the string on Louis’s thong. He pulled it up a bit, enjoying the view underneath, and then snapped it back down, making Louis yelp and jump again. 

“Oh, my baby waxed everywhere,” Harry purred, “You planned this.”

“Of course I planned this,” Louis grumbled, “You think I wanted to get on a last minute flight to Sacramento for fun? I had to fly Delta, Harry. I thought I was going to die.”

Harry laughed and then spanked Louis again. 

“That’s very funny, baby,” he said, “Don’t call me Harry while you’re on my lap.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Louis sighed, “Sorry, Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Harry said, “Thirteen more.”

He brought his hand down a few more times; good, solid smacks. Louis’s feet only kicked a little with each blow, and he whimpered weakly. He kept his arms crossed, his face buried in his arms, and Harry took a few breaks to smooth his hand down Louis’s bum, over the top of his thighs and under his jumper, rucking the woolen fabric up over Louis’s lower back. He praised him as he did so, and then after a few moments went right back to the spanking. It felt good, a pattern he hadn’t realized he had missed so much. 

All was going well until there was a sudden knock on the door, and Harry froze, his hand high above his head as he geared up to deliver a particularly hard smack. 

“Mr. Styles?” an unfamiliar voice – probably a stage hand – said from the other side of the door, “Uh, a pizza just got delivered to the back door? They said it was for you?”

Jesus Christ. Louis’s god damn fucking pizza. Louis had to press his mouth into the couch to stop from laughing. Harry smacked his thigh, just under his bum, for that. 

“You would think is fucking funny,” Harry growled, and then lifted his head, shouting, “I’m fucking busy!” 

“Um,” the voice outside said, “What should I do with the pizza then?”

Harry smacked Louis’s ass again, and he hoped he did it loud enough for the man outside to hear. 

“I don’t give a fuck!” he shouted back. 

It was quiet outside the door, and then eventually Harry heard the sound of footsteps fading from his door. When he thought the stage hand was a safe way away, he started Louis’s spanking up again.

“You get five more for ordering that pizza.” 

“That’s not fair!” Louis protested, and was met with another smack, “Ow, fuck! I got your favorite, asshole! Now someone else is gonna eat it!” 

“You whine any more and I will fuck you dry,” Harry hissed, which finally made Louis be quiet. 

Harry finished up his spanking, extra hits and all, and then ran his flat palm over Louis’s newly bruised bum, trying to soothe the skin the best he could. His personal pot of lotion was across the room on his dressing table, and he didn’t feel like moving Louis to go grab it – or make the poor sub move to get it on his own. Instead he just rubbed the skin gently and kissed it, then moved his hand up, rubbing under Louis’s jumper, up the boy’s back and then between his shoulder blades. 

“How are you, baby?” Harry asked, and Louis sighed. 

“Green, Daddy,” he said. His voice was much softer now, pliable and made of velvet. Harry loved that voice. He hadn’t heard it in so long. 

“Good, good,” Harry said, “Can you get up on for a moment?” 

Louis nodded, and pulled his pliant body off of Harry’s lap. Harry stood for a moment, feeling his fully hard cock bob as he did so, and he went across the room to his personal bag to get his bottle of lube and a condom. 

Louis watched him with interest, and when Harry came back, he sat on the couch and pet Louis’s hair. 

“Hands and knees, baby love,” he requested, and Louis rearranged himself again to meet his dom’s request. Once he was prepared, Harry lifted himself so he could reach around to Louis’s bum and begin slathering on the lube. He got plenty of it over the string of Louis’s thong, but he didn’t particularly care. 

“I’m not gonna finger you,” he said casually, and it made Louis look up. 

“Why?” 

“’Why, Daddy,’” Harry corrected, “And because I can tell you already fingered yourself, you little slut.” 

Louis whined a little but didn’t deny it. It made Harry chuckle and he patted Louis’s bum before going back to wetting his hole. When he was all done, he retracted his hand, wiping his wet fingers on his own thigh, and then reached for the condom. 

“Put it on me,” he said, holding it out to Louis. 

“Daddy,” Louis whined, “I want you bare.”

He wiggled his ass to accentuate his point. 

“I want to feel you drip out of me.”

“I’d love that,” Harry agreed, “But we don’t have time to clean that up.”

Louis groaned, the noise high and nearly unhinged. Harry stuck his fingers in the sub’s mouth, and Louis grumbled around the digits for a moment before he resorted to softly sucking on what was in his mouth instead. After a few moments, Harry retracted his fingers, and Louis looked up at him with widened eyes. 

“Ready to put it on now?” he asked, and Louis nodded. He lifted himself up a bit, just so he could take the condom, rip it open, and then rolled it on Harry’s cock. When he did so, his jumper shifted, and Harry could see the hard tip of Louis’s own dick peeking out of his thong. The sight made him smirk a bit as Louis settled back onto his hands and knees. 

Harry went to the other side of the couch and climbed onto his knees, keeping the rest of his body straight. Once he was situated, he settled a hand on Louis’s back and pushed gently, and the other man took the hint and moved so his face was shoved into the sofa and his body was angled downwards. The fabric of his jumper tumbled down as he did so, revealing the caramel color of his California tanned skin and the smooth, fluid curves of his body. 

It made Harry’ throat dry, but he swallowed it away so he could pull away the string of Louis’s thong back and then push his dick inside the other man. 

Louis yelped a bit, probably feeling a bit of burn. He was more open than usual but also his own fingering wasn’t nearly as thorough as the one Harry typically gave him before sex. Louis felt hot and tight, and Harry grunted as he swiveled his hips and fucked deeper inside Louis. 

“Ah, fuck, baby,” he grunted. He grabbed Louis by the hips and pulled him back, screwing his hips to fuck into him again as he did it, “I sure have a good little fuck toy, don’t I?” 

Louis whined at that, burying his head deeper into his arms. 

“Yeah, you know what you are,” Harry continued, “You just wait backstage in your underwear, hoping I fuck you? You want it so bad you’ll follow me anywhere?” 

Louis cried out again, and Harry slammed into him hard. 

“Huh? You’d go anywhere for this dick, you need it so bad?” 

Louis nodded, and lifted his head up to cry out. 

“Need your dick so bad, Daddy,” Louis cried out, “I missed it so much.” 

“Couldn’t even wait until I was in LA, could you?” Harry asked, “Couldn’t even wait until I was home.”

“No,” Louis gasped weakly, “I needed it sooner.”

“That’s why you teased me, huh? That’s why you had to be a little attention whore? Just so you could piss Daddy off enough to get a hard fuck?” 

Louis nodded, his voice watery and gasping now. 

“Yes, yes!” 

Harry nodded to himself, fucking into Louis with a steady rhythm. 

“Daddy needed that to, lovey. Daddy needed his little boy’s hole. Hasn’t been the same without you, fuck,” he grunted, “If you hadn’t shown up I was just going to come back here and fuck my own hand thinking about you. But I got the real thing instead.” 

Harry kept pounded into Louis, his hips slamming against the other man’s bruised bum, and Louis gasped and yelped as Harry did so. 

“Oh – ow, that hurts,” Louis groaned as Harry slowed down and fucked with sluggish, dragging strokes. 

“Yellow?” Harry questioned, and Louis shook his head. 

“No, no, green,” he insisted, “I like it. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”

That made Harry grin, and he kept going at his slow pace, making Louis shake and whimper. 

“Harry,” he said, and then gasped, “Daddy, I mean Daddy – god, fuck, Harry, Daddy, whatever – I’m gonna cum if you keep up like that.”

“Yeah?” Harry questioned, “Can you hold it in? Wait until I cum.”

“Yes,” Louis said immediately, nodding quickly, “Yes, Daddy, of course I will.” 

“Good boy,” Harry praised, “Perfect boy.”

He kept fucking into Louis, and he could tell it wouldn’t take much longer for him to come. His belly felt tense and every part of his body felt like too tightly strung, as if he was about to snap like one of his faulty guitar strings. 

He twisted his hips, grunting and cursing as he kept screwing into the pliant, lovely man underneath him, and then Louis murmured “Daddy” one more time and Harry was gasping, his release pouring out into the condom. 

Louis whined at the feeling, pushing his bum back onto Harry’s dick as the dom came. Harry’s hand scrambled forward, and he pressed his palm over Louis’s hard cockhead, stroking it a few times. It didn’t take long before he felt Louis release all over his hand, his jumper, and the sofa below. He didn’t even scold him for it. He was all done with scolding; he only wanted to give Louis praise now. 

After Louis was done, he collapsed onto the couch, and Harry had to pull his cock out just so the other man could fully flop onto the sofa. Harry took a moment to stand up on his shaky legs so he could throw away the rubber and get water, lotion and a towel. When he came back to sit on the couch, Louis’s head quickly landed in his lap. He squirmed as Harry toweled him down, removed his sticky jumper and thong, and then rubbed lotion on his bum. Louis swallowed his when Harry pressed water to his lips, and then he brought his head right back down, cuddling into Harry’s thigh. Harry dropped his hand into Louis’s hair, combing it between his fingers as he gulped down some of his own water. His body now seemed to remember how tired he was, and he no longer wanted booze and drugs. He wanted proper hydration and a Japanese massage and a nap. 

Louis turned in his lap, and Harry kept petting his hair and praising him; telling him he was a good boy, so sweet and gorgeous and just what Harry needed. Always just wanted he needed. Louis preened at the attention, wriggling around a bit as Harry spoke. After awhile Louis settled down entirely, and opened his eyes, gazing up at Harry. 

“I really, really missed you,” Louis said, “I’m really sorry I didn’t answer your calls.” 

“It’s alright, love,” Harry said, “I forgive you, now that I know you were planning such a nice surprise for me.”

“I planned this idea for weeks,” Louis said, “I wanted to do it in LA but I got impatient. I couldn’t wait anymore.” 

“I’m glad you did,” Harry said, “I had a hard night tonight. You were a perfect surprise.” 

Louis smiled at that, but then his face clouded a bit and he frowned. 

“Are you okay?” Louis said, “Was it just one hard night, or – “

“I’m just tired of touring,” Harry said, “I’m so tired. Why didn’t you remind me how awful this is?”

“Oh, you love touring,” Louis scoffed, “You like the attention.”

“True,” Harry admitted, “But. I’m still tired. I want to go to sleep in my own bed and put my feet in my own pool and not have to make any decisions all day.”

Louis hummed and nodded at that. 

“Soon, love,” Louis said, “Just a little longer.”

“Just a little longer,” Harry agreed, and then leaned down to kiss Louis. The other man smiled against his mouth, closing his eyes as Harry pulled away. 

They were quiet for a moment, while Harry pet Louis’s legs and Louis lay pliant on Harry’s lap. There were some light footsteps outside, people still taking down the stage and moving things around, but Harry had the room for at least another few hours and he was going to take advantage of that. Nothing in the world could move him right now. 

Eventually, Louis prodded him in the side, and Harry pulled away from his thoughts to look at his husband. 

“Yeah, babe?”

“Um. So,” Louis said, “This is going to sound dumb but can you actually order a pizza for real this time? I’m so hungry.”

Harry laughed, and his chest felt warm as he leaned down to kiss Louis again. 

He would give Louis anything. He would give him the entire world. Of course he would order him a pizza. 

“Of course,” he said, as he watched the love of his life close his eyes and smile, “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Post: https://emperorstyles.tumblr.com/post/186178093111/can-you-feel-the-fever-by-delsicle-relationship
> 
> Tumblr: emperorstyles 
> 
> Twitter: itsdelsicle


End file.
